


To Fail

by Alvitr



Series: The High Cost of Living [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Contains spoilers for Thor: The Dark World, Frigga Feels, Gen, Loki Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 05:06:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alvitr/pseuds/Alvitr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Loki is informed of the results of Malekith's attack on Asgard, he knows exactly what to do.</p><p>Sequel of "To Stopper Death".</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Fail

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the second part of this series, as promised. This really serves as just a short link between the first and third parts, but I think it answers a pretty obvious question that would be raised after the events of "To Stopper Death" -- if Loki can bring back the dead, why not do it again?

"We do what we must . . . Sometimes we can choose the path we follow. Sometimes our choices are made for us. And sometimes we have no choice at all."  
\- _The Sandman_ , "Season of Mists"

*

After the guard had left, Loki allowed himself only one violent moment of pure reaction before his mind began to whir and stutter and click. He barely needed to plan. He knew precisely what to do. His body moved like a machine, gathering what he needed from the wreckage of his ruined cell.

It was a simple matter. He had done it once before, after all.

He spilled the ink from the stand on his desk onto the floor, dipped his finger in it, and began tracing the runes out. He moved quickly. Who knew how much time he had before he might be interrupted? When that was finished, he used a jagged piece of wood from his broken furniture (furniture _she_ had brought him; all these little comforts she thought might bring him back to himself!) to cut open the fleshy part of his palm, and took the seat of a chair, flipped it over, and, using it as a shallow basin, squeezed as much blood from himself as he could manage. He pushed up his sleeves and traced the symbols on his arms, his face, his neck, his tongue. He closed his eyes.

*

This time it came to him easily. He was crawling. Dirt was beneath him, dark, rich earth, and he was making his way through a low tunnel, covered in vines and leaves. It was not completely dark; beams of faint light trickled down from above him. He pushed onwards, pulling himself along inch by inch along the ground, fingers questing for an exit.

There was no warning. All at once, the earth became soft and loose beneath him; then it was caving under his weight, and he was falling.

Falling, falling. Graceful silver branches slipped past him, and he could not grasp them. He was spinning, out of control, and he needed to focus, needed to think, but how could he, when nothingness was rushing at him so quickly?

And wasn’t there something out there?

Something waiting, in the deep?

*

He hit solid ground hard, and lay there, dazed. His mouth tasted like blood. Distantly, he could hear murmuring voices.

Was this a test?

With some effort, Loki pulled himself to his feet. This place was familiar. These were the warm, comfortable halls of his childhood home, all bathed in soft light and dark wood and gold. In contrast, he was filthy, stained in blood and dirt, barefoot and wild, like a beast.

He followed the sound of the voices, passing doors that led to rooms he’d once known intimately. Here was the library, and here the librarian’s study. This stair led down to the kitchens. This passage, to his mother’s chambers. He stopped here, staring at it, a chill passing through him, but the voices were further on yet.

He stopped at the door to his father’s chambers. Through the solid, thick door, he could hear them: Odin and Thor. He was sure they were speaking of him. His hand hovered over the doorknob, and then he turned and opened it.

“Ah, Loki,” Thor said, smiling at him. The two of them were seat across from each other at a table; such a cozy scene. “Just in time. We’re discussing our plans for Jotunheim.”

“Plans?” Loki said. His voice sounded deep and scratchy, as though he hadn’t used it in a long time.

“Yes,” Odin said. “We launch our invasion imminently.”

Loki shook his head. He was confused. “I thought … but you stopped me. You said it was wrong.”

Ignoring him, Thor turned back to his father. “I demand to lead the charge,” he said. “With Mjollnir in my hands, we will be unbeatable.”

“Now, Thor,” the All-Father said gravely, “old as I may be, I have not lost my taste for glory. We shall lead the charge together. Father and son.”

“Father,” Loki said, but his voice seemed even weaker. “I don’t understand …”

Thor stood, and Odin stood with him. “Let us make haste then,” Thor said. “We must slay them, every single one. None shall stand before us.”

Odin nodded in agreement, and they brushed past Loki, out the door and into the hall. Loki followed after them.

“Wait!” he cried, but no one could hear him; his voice was now a thin, reedy thing. “Let me help. I can help!”

He was suddenly overcome with a fit of coughing; a shiver ran through him, going deep down to his bones. He wrapped his arms around himself and shuddered violently, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he went still with disbelief.

“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no, no …” He reached out one quivering hand. It was, most decisively, blue. “No!”

“Brother.”

Loki’s head snapped up; Thor was standing in front of him. His face was filled with disappointment. Loki felt a flush of horror and embarrassment go through him. Thor couldn’t see him this way; he was not meant to see, not ever!

“Thor,” Loki began, “Please, I can explain --”

“I thought you wanted to help?” Thor said, shaking his head. 

“I do -- “

“You will help no one like this,” Thor said sadly. “I suppose this is farewell then. Monster.”

He turned and walked away.

“No,” Loki murmured. “No, I’m not … I’m not … Thor! Come back!”

But I am, he thought, and a sick laugh began to bubble up in his throat. He looked at his hands, his monster’s claws, and they were drenched, dripping in blood. The laugh erupted from his mouth, and he let himself succumb to it, he wallowed in it; he would be consumed by this truth, his fate, consign himself to the beast he’d always known himself to be -- and why should he hide from it any longer? Why wear this costume still? Why not shed it and finally be free --

“Loki, no.”

Two hands grasped his own, tightly. He stared at them in disbelief. The blue retreated; the blood disappeared.

He looked up at his mother.

“I cannot allow you to proceed with this,” she said sternly. “You must turn back.”

He shook his head vehemently.

“I insist.”

“I can do this,” he said. “Leave me.”

“It is too dangerous for you to walk this path again,” she said. “Your mind will not withstand it this time. It will create endless mazes in which you will find yourself trapped, forever.”

“I don’t care!” Loki shouted. He began to pull away, to struggle, but her grip was strong. 

“I care,” she said. “I will not allow this. You will cease this at once, Loki.”

Loki screamed. He shouted and cursed. He cried. He begged. She remained utterly unmoved.

“I do this out of love for you, Loki,” she said, when he had exhausted himself. “You must let me go.”

“No,” he whispered, but he could already feel himself slipping away. Everything around him became soft and indistinct; the only firm thing was her hands, clamped around his own, but as darkness crept in around him, even they too became intangible, mere light held in by the memory of hands. 

*

When he came to he was face down in his cell, in a mess of blood and smudged ink, and he knew he had failed. He lay still for awhile, staring at one loosely clenched hand, stained red and black, the healing cut on his palm seeming to mock him.

Gradually he began to stir. He sat up, staring at the wreckage around him hollowly, and then stood and proceeded to wipe out what was left of the runes on the floor in silence. Then he heaved himself over to the wall, and slid down slowly until he was sitting again.

“Why,” he said out loud. Why had he wasted his one chance to perform this rite properly on a mere human? He hadn’t known, he’d never have thought he’d need it for a more important --

“ _WHY???_ ” he shouted, and then let out a wordless noise of rage. Useless, absolutely useless. 

He had failed her, and failed himself. 

Such was his lot, it seemed.

*

That was how Thor found him, not long after. And when he heard his offer, Loki smiled.

_At this, at least, I shall not fail._


End file.
